Swans of Innocence
by e.b. Sabatini
Summary: What happens after someone wins the Hunger Games? You get a house, a monthly stipend, and Annie Cresta deals with the tragic deaths of her family. Swans of Innocence is the sequel to District Drowning. (Highly advised to read that first). This story is a work in progress and may not have continual updates but it will be completed eventually. It is also in Annie's POV. Please enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:**_Hello All! This is the second installment to District Drowning. I hope Swans of Innocence will make up and succeed your prior expectations that you had in District Drowning. Enjoy!

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Part I: Marco, Polo

1

When I was about seven, Mom got really sick. Daddy wasn't even sure if she would get well, but he didn't want me to get the sickness either so I stayed with Uncle Wallace. It was just me and him for three weeks. The best three weeks of my childhood.

He told me stories. Carried me piggy-back. But the best of all was that he took me on his boat the _Wanderer_. She was beautiful. And that's when I first fell in love with sailing. But more importantly, I found I wanted to sail across the world and explore the twenty seas and seven oceans even more.

But that dream will never come true. If a boat is found to be outside of the one hundred fifty mile range, well, I've never seen it happen. The threat is worse than attempting such a feat.

My dreams are all locked in yesterday. And maybe yesterday was a horrible dream. Maybe yesterday wasn't real at all. But I know that to be false. The water licking at my skin, the setting sun, and the weight on my hip tell me otherwise.

Yesterday, I had my interview with Caesar Flickerman.

Yesterday, I took a metal train back to District Four.

Yesterday, I was cradled in Finnick Odair's arms like a child.

Yesterday, my parents died.

Lucy's dried tears on my shoulder tell me all too well that yesterday was real. But today, today may as well be the dream.

I'm wearing Mollie Logan's reaping dress for the funeral of a century. The Capitol cameras were given permission to film the ceremony. Something never done before. I wonder what everyone thinks of all our white.

White is for weddings. Whites is for purity. But here in District Four, white is reserved for our funerals. For our dead. To know that even in death, you can still maintain some of your innocence.

The setting sun is what rouses me from my sleep. Not the deadweight Lucy has become in her slumber. Her hand is held by her friend Nate's. He looks at her with a sympathy he shouldn't know. No five-year-old should know.

Finnick Odair gently pulls Nate's hand away and slowly moves away from the rising tide. I should move too before Lucy becomes wet. I don't need her sick. Not that I can't afford to get her well again. It seems I'm an heiress after all. Winning the Seventieth Hunger Games and inheriting the Chelsea Tavern within days. I'm almost as famous as Odair. My mouth tilts up a bit at that thought. But they won't think me beautiful, I'll be sad, poor, and insane before pretty.

The cold pains of standing in the water too long finally seep in, so I turn to leave too only to see Mayor Neptune off in the distance. He must be as sad and depleted as I am. Losing an only son will do that to you. And he probably hates me for getting Percy killed.

I turn slightly away from him as I walk up the beach, but it's like he doesn't see me. And maybe he doesn't. We're all ghosts now, and ghosts are invisible.

At the lane intersecting Victor's Beach, Connor is talking to Odair. It seems heated and for my best friend, that is alarming. Connor has never been the one to argue or raise his voice. As I get closer, I see Connor thrust something small and gleaming in Odair's palm. Is it coin? But whatever for?

Connor notices me out of the corner of his eye and leaves Odair behind. He takes the slumbering Lucy from me without a word. And I'm glad because I don't think I could deal with his pity.

Odair is several feet in front of us as we continue to walk when I make my decision. "Connor," I say, "if I'm not back before dark, make sure the Logan's have Lucy."

And he stops in his tracks. "Annie where are you going?"

I just shake my head. "You know exactly where I'm going." I begin stepping away from him. "And just because you're bigger than me and a boy for that matter, I won't let you stop me." And I run. "Annie!" I hear Connor call. But he's too late. I know I can't face all those people no doubt at the house in Victor's Beach for multiple reasons.

Mainly, I need to see the remains for myself. The tavern. The house. My former life. So, I continue to run. Mollie's dress is probably ruined but I doubt she wants it back. That's why it doesn't bother me when the soot lands on the white. Ash as light as snow or so I've heard. It's rare for it to snow in District Four. It's only been once since I've been alive and I hardly remember it.

I try to be careful not to step on anything sharp since I never put on shoes. There are bottles of spirits everywhere broken and whole. I gasp as a shard of glass cuts the side of my foot. It's a hazard, but I couldn't stay away. I need something here. And suddenly, I see it. A framed photo of our entire family just before Uncle Wallace set off for sea the last time. Daddy kept it behind the bar. Always.

I tiptoe across the rest to my house. It hasn't fallen, but that doesn't mean that it won't. But there are things I need here too. I test the stairs to make sure they'll hold me then I make my way up slowly. I find a large sail—one of the many I patched—in the closet. It should hold everything I need it to.

I strip Lucy's bed and yank all of the clothing she has out of the drawers. And I pull off all of the pictures along the walls as I go. There's so much more for me to take, but I'll have to come back with help.

My room is next, and it's probably the most time I've ever spent in here. I stuff all my clothes and trinkets in the makeshift sack then head back down stairs to my parents room. But the living room catches my eye first. A floor board is out of place. My eyes widen in alarm. I rip up the board and sigh with relief. They're still there. Mary's books are still hidden. But I pull those out anyway. And I can only hope no one found the Homer, Shakespeare, or Twain when the fire was put out.

I hurry into my parents' room before I can forget what it was I wanted. My Dad's camera is on the nightstand and the photo box is open on the bed. I pick them all up with care and place them in the sail. Then, I go back to the living room.

The floor is charred reaching all the way to the chimney, which strikes me as odd. But I have no time for thinking about it. I lean down and stick my arm up the chimney and find the hidden compartment no one used but me. My wooden box of about a foot in length is still there. Still safe. Heavily burned but safe. I open it and find the contents are in better condition than I ever hoped for. It's the last thing to go into my sack then I'm out the door.

I take a detour on the way to Victor's Beach. I have to go to the tree near the pond.

It's the place I should've gone first. It's the place that I know something is there. Something just for me and no one else knows about.

A letter. My Boo Radley letter as I like to think of it.

The sun has almost dipped into the sky as I reach the tree. I peer inside the hole that's just high up enough for me to see on my toes, and I discover nothing is there. I reach in hoping the letter is to the back. Surely Hummer would have placed one in here. Maybe a squirrel pushed it farther away. But I come up with nothing. It's not there.

And the one thing that I thought could make me happy on a day like today is spoiled. He must hate me. I hate myself. He knows...he knows who I am! I'm excited for a moment, but only a moment because he must not care for me like I do for him. And he doesn't like the real me. A fake, a coward, a broken doll.

At least I'll be able to wallow in my misery. Alone and—I hear a whistle in the distance. They're too close not to see me. I wipe the few tears from my face before I can see the intruder. I peek around the tree and realize I was never alone. Not really.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Finnick Odair must like to be a pain in the ass. No, not a pain in the ass. My personal pain in the ass. He laughs at me, and I realize I just said that out loud. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"You're bleeding Annie," he says.

And I look down and see that my foot didn't stop. I left a trail all the way here almost. The sail has taken up some of it along the way given how red-black it looks.

He pulls my things away from me and makes me lean on him. Finnick doesn't say a word as we make it to Victor's Beach. I'm grateful for that but I wonder what is stopping him from saying something. He's usually bursting with energy and life. And now he just seems as lifeless as I feel.

Despite Finnick's help, I still stumble up the porch steps to my house. My house. I'll never get use to that.

Stepping inside, I gasp in shock. This is not the house I left this afternoon. This afternoon, paint still caked some of the windows and fish wreaked inside making the air almost unbreathable. Now, it's as if I'm not in my house. But I am. It's the correct place.

Finnick places my bag on the floor as I hobble into the kitchen where I discover another person. Someone I know that I know I've never met. They certainly aren't from District Four.

This man is dressed in all black, looks a few years older than myself, and has skin as dark as the coffee Odair drinks. If it weren't for the gold lining his eyes, he could belong here.

He smiles at me. It's a warm smile and I can't help but smile in return, and I don't really know why.

"Umm...hello," I say because I don't really know what to say. I'm itching for Odair to come in here and ease the awkward tension that's coming in the room.

"You should probably sit down," he says pointing to a chair then looking at my foot. I look too and see the blood. I haven't really lost a lot. I'm just a bleeder. But I do sit down in a chair. There's a mug of hot chocolate in front of me. He makes this go on gesture for me to drink, and I now feel like a guest in my own home.

The hot chocolate eases some tension in me, and I don't realize that this man is cleaning up my wound like an expert healer.

"Thank you…"

"Cinna," he says.

"Cinna," Odair says jovially. "Glad you could come."

"Clayton asked me so-"

"So as his intern you were his beck-and-call boy."

Cinna gives Odair this look as if he's saying, _"And I'm not the only one."_ But he just shakes his head for a moment then says, "I've been given an indefinite visa to stay in Four."

My ears perk up at that. Traveling between districts is forbidden except among Capitol workers and officials, and Cinna is apparently neither one of those. And I've heard that the visas are hard to come by according to my peppy trio.

"Why?" I say.

Cinna's eyes light up as he says, "Clayton wants me to make sure all the clothes he sends fits you and your cousin perfectly. It's one of the last steps before I can become a Stylist."

"So you like the games," I say. I can't believe it but I should. Everyone in the Capitol likes the games. It's just that Cinna seems so different.

"I like clothes Anneliese," he says with laugh.

My mouth opens and shuts several times before I decide to say nothing. I don't know if Cinna is serious or trying to be funny. So, I stand up and say, "I need to put Lucy to bed."

"Mollie's watching her and Nate in one of the rooms," Odair says leaning on the counter. "They're probably asleep." I nod in agreement. Lucy might not even wake until midday if I'm lucky.

"Well," I say, "shut the door when you leave." I limp towards the door then say, "Nice to meet you Cinna." And before either of them can say anything, I hurry as fast as I can out of there to the living room to retrieve my things in the sail. It's still there where Odair left it. It feels a lot heavier but maybe I'm just sleepier.

It takes me a while to carry it all up to my room without a sound. The lock clicks louder than I expected, but it makes me feel better. For tonight, I push all the things under the bed except for the charred box of mine. I open it and discover the contents are safe. Safer than I could ever be.

I pull out the envelope from the bottom then shut the box. There's a new nightstand next to the bed so I place the wooden box in the draw hoping no one will open it until I can find a good place for it soon. The envelope flutters to the floor as I yank open the window. Someone must have fixed it and now I think that someone must have came with Cinna.

An old wooden trellis is next to my bedroom window. It looks sturdy enough to hold my weight. With the thickness of the envelope in my mouth, I make my climb up to the roof. It's not far and good thing too. The trellis won't make it too many more times I think.

The moon hits just right so I have plenty of light on the roof. It's as if the sun never set.

I pull out the three pages from the now wet envelope and begin to read:

_My Oriole,_

_You're such a clever girl. A lot more than myself I must say. You, my love, have taken my breath away. And I wish I knew who you were. You are not named Ariel as you say. So, maybe you are an Aurora since your smile is as bright as the northern lights? Or Azul for the deep ocean blues of our waters and how deep your eyes are seem to be? Or an Adelaide for you are noble and kind?_

_Oriole, I've only known you for the shortest moment...but that moment was the best moment in my life. You made me feel as if I were alive again. And I never feel like that any longer._

_My life is so planned and coordinated, that I hope yours never turns out like that. And it never will. I'll make sure of it._

_But, your cleverness was almost cruel. You didn't show Oriole. I don't know whether to laugh or applaud you for eluding me. Why didn't you come? I waited for hours. I'm pretty sure the people coming and going to the market looked at me funny all day._

_But this is why I write to you. In hopes that you will write back. Please write back. I just found you. You understood me when no one else ever has. I've never come across that in first meeting a person._

_Like you, I will not tell you my name until I guess yours. That may seem strange or even unfair, but I guarantee that I'm right in front of you._

_And until I meet you, I will remember...the smell of citrus in you hair...the gaze of your eyes…the press of your fingers...the way your lips molded to my lips...the way you will always be mine…_

_My love,_

_Hummingbird_

I fold the heavy parchment back and—and notice I'm not alone. Finnick Odair has climbed the roof and sits right in front of me.


	3. Chapter 3

3

I gulp and feel my eyes go wide. My heart picks up pace as I feel a wave of dizziness wash over me. And I feel so out of it. Like I'm not grounded. _You have control Annie. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out._

And I do. I breathe. As I come back to myself, I notice that I've been rocking myself and Odair has hold of my bent knees. In. Out.

His hands touch my hands. They're so much bigger than mine. Rough like he's worked at the Wharf all his life. They're nice hands. Hands that were meant to hold a woman's waist or grasp her palm in his in a dance. I've never noticed someone's hands before. They reassure me that I'm real. That I'm rooted to the present. A present I have no viable control over.

"Annie, you alright?"

I look up at him and see that his eyes are laced in worry. Worry for me. Why? He has nothing to worry for. Never has never will.

"Fine," I say as I give him a smile I don't feel. "You can let go of me now."

Odair looks down at our touching hands and slowly releases his hold. And I feel cold when he does, but I can't decide if that was because of his presence or that he was blocking the wind.

In my daze, I crumbled my letter. I try to fix it and just give up. I manage to stuff it in the envelope. The elegant script in a deep purple says _A. Oriole_. I hear him suck in a breath. Odair doesn't say a word even when I suspect he would. Maybe he thinks even some things should be private.

"I don't," I start to say. I'm not sure how to say this but I'll just do it anyway. "I don't...need you." He looks at me funny. "Not tonight." The corner of his mouth tilts up which makes me wonder all kinds of things about him.

"I know," he says. "Maybe I needed you?" I roll my eyes. Finnick Odair need me? Impossible.

He starts making this little scraping noise on the roof and I look to see what's in his hands. It's my hair pin that I placed in his coffee mug before the funeral. I suck in a breath. That feels like a lifetime ago.

I look him in the eye as I say, "Locked doors don't stop you, do they?"

He chuckles. "At least I didn't look in your things."

"I wouldn't have looked if I thought for a second that who you are is what you are."

Odair stops moving entirely. Like what I said matters and maybe it does. I'm not sure of anything anymore. The wind picks up and makes my skin pebble with goose flesh, but it's not the cold that bothers me.

"It's a mistake that I'm here," I say.

He's silent for so long that I don't think he heard me. But when he does, Odair doesn't say what I think he would.

"You could never be a mistake."  
"That's not what I meant a you know it," I sigh. "Either the Gamemakers are getting lazy with their work or something else was at play."

He stiffens and it gives me the initiative to continue. "It was you wasn't it? Why save me Finnick?"

And I think my saying his name get him to look at me. I mean really look. I'm not some fragile thing ready crack at any moment even if I do feel that way.

"You'll always be worth saving no matter what it'll cost me."

Cost him? Did he bribe the Gamemakers. Was my win orchestrated like I thought earlier? I mean I was the obvious choice. I was probably the only one that could swim.

Then he does something I don't expect. At least I shouldn't expect it. He kisses me like he's dying. Like I'm holding him here and not gravity itself. He tastes sweet. Almost too sweet, and it reminds me that this shouldn't be real. My life isn't really real anymore.

"You can't," I say nearly panting. "_We_ can't do that." And when he doesn't say anything, I go on. "We can't be that for each other Finnick. We can't keep going to each other chasing away our nightmares and sharing our heartache." I shake my head. "I mean you're Finnick Odair! The boy everyone loves. And I'm the girl that's going insane." He looks like he's about to object, but I carry on. "I'm in the State of Melancholia and we're not looking for visitors." I sigh as I stand up heading for the edge of the roof. "At least not ones that belong in the land of the living."

The stars are bright enough to tell the constellations, but I can't remember any of them. Not now.

"You don't belong with the dead," he says as he comes to stand next to me.

"I am dead Odair. You're the one that likes to pretend. But I can't go on pretending. I'm not good at it. Any trained eye could see that." The silence is tense, and I almost forget he's standing next to me but I don't. Who could? "In a few weeks you'll forget all about me and whatever it is I stand for. You should know lost causes when you see them." We're not on the best of terms now and I don't want to keep clinging to that. He'll leave. They all leave. I'm just some remnant of what's left behind.

"I'll prove you wrong Annie," he says, but it's just a whisper in the wind as he makes it over the edge onto the trellis.

"I never said I was right." Out of the corner of my eye I see him pause. But moments later he's gone. They all leave even me.

Slowly, I make it back to my room. The cracked door is the only indication that Finnick Odair came in here. I place my letter in the draw not bothering to open the box. I'll do that later.

The cold chill seep in from the window, but I don't bother to close it. It's a nice reminder that I'm in Four. I can smell the salt. Taste it actually. And that's the first sign that I'm crying. The silent tears are what cause me to sob in the too fluffy pillow someone placed on my bed. They're loud and I don't care.

I cry until my voice goes hoarse. And even then, I'm still going through the motions. Someone comes in my room. I feel them when they mattress squeaks. I don't bother looking. My head hurts too much to lift up. They wrap their arms around me. Squeezing me into warm. Into submission of sleep.

And just as the dream world takes me, I could swear that the person utters one word.

"_Polo_."


End file.
